


When the Stars Shoot Across the Sky

by TruthandLies



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Minor Lucas Friar/Riley Matthews, Snow, Stars, Winter, child!Maya, child!Riley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 22:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruthandLies/pseuds/TruthandLies
Summary: Maya once found her safe place in a girl who loves the stars. When that girl gives her love to someone else, Maya is forced to find a new safe place. Along the way, she and her star-loving best friend discover important things about themselves - and each other.





	When the Stars Shoot Across the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Written for malicebertha as a Secret Santa gift, and posted here for all to enjoy.

A roar of wind rips through the night, but it’s nothing compared to the wild shouts of her parents echoing through the bedroom wall. Maya curls into a ball and claps her hands to her ears. 

_Stop_. She wants to shout back, but the word is trapped within her throat. _Please_. This word sounds more like a whimper, but again, it’s caught in the sobs taken hostage inside.

“So you’re just gonna go out and drink.” Her mommy’s voice is shrill. Shrill like knives. “You’re just gonna spend all our rent money on booze. Is that what you’re gonna do?”

There’s a boom, like broken thunder. 

Maya’s wall shakes. Her father’s fist.

Maya’s window rattles. The fist of the snowstorm.

“What do you want from me, Katy?” Another boom. “You knew I wasn’t marriage material. Or – or _father_ material. But for six years, I’ve tried. What else do you want?”

A sob escapes, trembling on Maya’s lips. Her daddy doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want her mommy, either. All he wants is beer. And something called _escape_.

“I want you to step up and be a man. Come on, Kermit. Maya needs you.”

“And what about what I need?” Her daddy’s voice is as cold as the snow smacking against Maya’s windowpane. “What about what I want?”

“What _do_ you want?”

The wind whistles, as if calling on her daddy’s answer.

It doesn’t come.

There’s silence. Silence and then a sigh.

“I want…” The squeak of a bed. The thump of boots, as if her daddy has struck them against the floor. “I don’t want any of this. I want to escape. Don’t you?”

Maya’s sobs escape. Break from the scratchy prison of her throat.

She can’t. She can’t. She can’t wait for her mommy’s answer.

What if her mommy wants this thing called _escape_ , too?

She rushes to her window. Thrusts it open. And crawls outside, jacketless and without shoes, into the blizzard raging through New York City.

The city is broken. Soda cans rattle down the cracked sidewalks. Rumpled papers scratch the soles of Maya’s feet. People huddle in doorways, shivering beneath blankets. Staring. Staring. Staring.

Maya swipes at the tears stinging her eyes. And runs, crashing down this street with the broken streetlights. Past the doors with the browning Christmas wreaths and the falling-apart shops with their dingy multi-colored Christmas lights. Past the people who murmur about the child-the-poor-little-girl-the-one-without-shoes and reach out their arms, reach them out like the barren trees reach out their scratchy, snow-stained branches.

A woman grabs Maya’s arm. “What’s the hurry, dearie? Stop and have a ‘sup.”

Maya gasps and whirls.

The woman gazes at her through eyes-pitch-black, her smile crooked and broken. “That’s a good little girl,” she wheezes, flashing her missing-tooth-grin. She tugs on Maya’s arm.

Maya gasps and pulls back. Her feet sting in the freezing snow. “Leave me alone.”

“And just where are you gonna go now, child?” The woman grabs again for Maya’s arm. “Is’sa blizzard out here.”

“I’m gonna…” Maya sniffles. Sniffles and reaches back. Back to her father’s voice. “Escape. I’m gonna escape.”

She doesn’t know what it means. _Escape_. It’s a foreign-type of word. Kinda like _safe_ and _warm_ , only completely different. Opposites without meaning. But she dodges the woman’s hand and she trips back into the blizzard and she turns and she runs.

If anyone can help her figure out what these words mean, it’s the little girl who likes to sing.

Maya has to find her.

And so she rushes from this scary world, from _her_ scary world, and she runs until the ruined streets begin to fade. Fade into something _other_. 

In this other world, the wreaths are no longer brown, but full and green. The Christmas lights are no longer dingy, but blazing and bright, even in the blizzard snow. And up above, in an angel’s loft, there is a window warm with golden light.

 _Warm._ Is that what that word means? Maya trembles in the snowstorm, her skin red and raw. _Escape._ Maybe this is where _escape_ lives.

Flutters of song filter down to the street. “Do-do-do, do-diddly-do.”

Maya’s heart dances into her sob-scarred throat. She rushes to the ladder hanging from the loft and pulls herself up, up, up.

Up, where she finds the little girl who likes to sing. Up, where she finds Riley, sitting in a glow of golden light. 

Riley is curled up on her window seat in a pair of pink flannel pajamas, her cheeks brilliantly pink. She dances her teddy bear across her lap, singing him a song. “Do-do-do, do-diddly-do. Merry Christmas, Beary.”

 _Christmas._ That’s another word Maya doesn’t really know. But watching Riley, Maya’s throat fills with something other than tears and sobs. It fills with something that might be warmth. She raises her frozen fist to the window and raps.

Riley sucks on a breath and turns toward the sound. Her brown eyes fly wide. “Maya?” she mouths.

 _Can I come in?_ Maya means to ask, but the words are frozen in her throat. Instead, she gazes through eyes-stinging-and-wet at the girl-of-song-and-light.

Riley locks onto something in Maya’s eyes. And something in Riley’s eyes begins to glisten. Her fingers shake, but she unlatches her window. “Merry Christmas, Maya,” she whispers, taking Maya’s icicle-hand. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

Maya falls through the window and into Riley’s arms. “I want to stay with you always, Riley.” She doesn’t know when it starts, but her body begins trembling and her eyes begin leaking and her throat shatters with sobs. “Can I find escape here?”

Riley runs her fingers through Maya’s blizzard-drenched hair. “You can find me here.” Her words are quieter than the howl of wind. “You can always escape to me.”

“Okay.” Maya curls into a ball atop the bay window seat, her head on Riley’s lap. 

Riley starts to sing. “Together always. Together forever. Maya and Riley. Just the way it’s meant to be.”

Maya’s tears dry and warm. Her trembling stops. In Riley’s arms, she has found _safe_.

As the years tick by, it’s Riley that she remembers for the rest of the night. Not Mrs. Mathews’ forcing her into a hot shower or shoveling soup down her ruined throat or calling her mommy and saying it’s-okay-Katy-it’s-okay-she’s-safe-safe-safe. 

No. 

She remembers the warmth and Riley’s song and the golden pool of light, welcoming her into this world of Other.

* * *

As time ticks by, Maya realizes that she really has found _escape_ : The world of Other beckons to her through a window gleaming with golden light, behind which a little girl sings and swings her feet while sitting on a throne bedecked with pillows.

Sometimes, Maya has to work up the courage to venture into this strange, wonderful world: A world so different from her own of broken-walls and broken-doors and broken-love. A world where daddies and mommies don’t shout, but hug. She stands beneath the golden glow and gazes up at the little girl, who sees the world in ways magical and marvelous.

Sometimes, Maya tries to join the little girl on her adventures.

“Did you know,” the girl will say, reaching down to hold Maya’s hand, “that the stars all have lives, Maya?”

The warmth of the girl’s hand sends a thrill through Maya’s skin, and so she tangles their fingers to capture the sensation. “‘Course they don’t have lives, you goof. They’re fireballs in the sky. Fire doesn’t have a life.”

The goof-girl will turn to Maya, and her Bambi-eyes will hold a trace of the stars. “You have fire, Peaches.” She will touch her hand to Maya’s heart, making it flip-flop. “Right here. Don’t you feel it?”

Maya will feel something. Something fiery and bright, like the magical glow that lights the window. _What do I call it?_ She will think. And when she cannot come up with a name, she will say, “You should give them names, then, Riley. Because everything alive needs a name.”

Riley’s lips will curve into a crescent smile. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’ll do.” She squeezes Maya’s hand. “I’ll give them all names. Names like Twinkly. Twinkly and Sparkly.”

And with the way Riley’s eyes will sparkle as she names her stars, Maya will be quite certain the stars shine within that gaze of gold.

Sometimes, Maya doesn’t seek adventure with Riley. She seeks solace.

Like the night her daddy leaves, and Riley’s baby brother is about to be born. Maya rests her hand in Riley’s, and she seeks the world of Other. The world where families do not break, but grow. The world where everything is Safe because of the girl who makes the world glow gold.

Riley will squeeze Maya’s hand, and she will promise to never leave. “Because it’s Riley and Maya, Peaches. Just the way it always has been.”

And in those moments, Maya will believe her. So long as she’s with Riley, everything is okay. “Don’t let go,” she will whisper, holding Riley’s hand tighter. “Don’t ever let go, Riley.”

“Never,” Riley will whisper back. And they will fall asleep, hand-in-hand, until Riley’s daddy wakes them up, his face lit with a radiant half-moon grin, to tell them about the birth of Riley’s baby brother.

Sometimes, Riley’s family takes Maya away from the world of Other into the world of Fun. 

They camp in woods of pine trees and lakes, where Maya cuddles with Riley, hand-in-hand _(never let go)_ , as the stars blink across the sky, and Riley tells Twinkly and Sparkly and Twinkly good-night.

They sit with fingers laced at fast food restaurants and drive-in theaters. Theaters where stories play across the screen: Happy families who love each other without breaking. Cheerful music drifts through the night, and Maya leans her head against Riley’s shoulder. “Riley?”

“Yes?” Riley kicks her feet against her seat.

“Do you think families can really love each other without breaking?”

Riley’s feet still. “Mine does.”

“Yeah. I know.” Maya sighs, the sound lost in the music. “But do you think other families can?”

“I think,” Riley says, her voice infused with all the wisdom of her nine years, “that when people love each other, it makes them strong. Like my mommy and my daddy. And,” she says, tapping a rhythm against Maya’s hand, “like you and me, Peaches. Your love never makes me break.”

Something warm wraps itself around Maya’s heart, fortifying it with silky steel. “You love me?”

“Of course.” Riley cups Maya’s hand with both her own. “Don’t you love me?”

“Yes.” The word sticks in Maya’s throat. She clears it, and tries again. “I do. I love you, Riles.”

And there’s something in those words, something in the way they feel upon Maya’s tongue, something about the way Riley’s hands feel against Maya’s skin, that is So Much Bigger than any truth Maya has ever murmured.

Every year, Riley’s family takes Maya to a world of Snow, a Wonderland of White, where pine trees dance in a wind-gone-cold, their furry branches coated in frost. Riley’s daddy, who becomes Mr. Matthews and then just Matthews, bundles them up in side-by-side sleighs, and says, “Okay, girls. Hold on to each other’s hands. Don’t let go.” 

And Riley will giggle, but she will tuck her hand into Maya’s.

And Maya will laugh, the fire bright within her heart, but she will thread her fingers through Riley’s.

And Matthews will push the sleighs, making them slide down-down-down hills of snow.

And Riley and Maya’s laughter will crescendo into cries of delight, as Riley’s mommy, Topanga, snaps golden shots of golden photos at the bottom of the hill, calling out her own laughter, her own delight.

The sleighs will skip to stops, and Riley or Maya or sometimes both at once will topple from their seats and land on their backs in the snow, still hand-in-hand. They will stare up at the world of stars, so much brighter out here in the Wonderland of White. Some stars shoot across the sky, fly as if on wings.

“You know, Riles,” Maya will say, squeezing her best friend’s hand, “I think they really are alive out here.”

And Riley will agree, or she will stare at the stars in golden-eyed awe, or, the year they both turn twelve, she will gaze at Maya, the stars at home within her eyes, and she will lift Maya’s hand to her lips, and she will whisper, “I know I am.”

Maya’s breath will catch, as if formed from frost, and she will shiver, but it will have nothing to do with the snow wet against her back. In that moment, gazing into Riley’s eyes, she will be quite certain the stars are alive, and that if she looks at Riley long enough, she will catch one for herself.

* * *

But the year they turn twelve, the stars begin to dim. At least, the ones in Riley’s eyes.

It starts with a whisper. Maya and Riley walk through the halls of their new middle school, hand-in-hand, and three eighth-grade girls start to talk. 

“Ew,” one says, wrinkling her nose.

“Do you think?” says another, the words not-at-all-muted behind her hand.

“Yup. Lesbos,” says a third, glaring at Riley. “Gross.”

Maya tenses her hand around Riley’s. “Why don’t you say that to my face?” she growls at the girl glaring at Riley. “Yeah, that’s right. Look at me and say it again.”

The girl rips her glare from Riley and attaches it to Maya. “I said,” she says, taking two deliberate steps toward Maya, “that girls shouldn’t be holding hands. It’s gross.”

Maya draws herself up to her full height. And even though she’s shorter than the girl, even though the top of her head comes up to the girl’s chin, the girl retreats her two steps plus two more. “You got a problem with me,” Maya says, linking her fingers through Riley’s trembling ones, “you talk to me. But if you ever make my best friend feel bad again, you’re not gonna like what happens next.” She holds up her free hand, transforming it into a fist.

“Maya,” Riley whines, trying to pull her hand away.

Maya holds on tight. She glares at Thing Number Two, and then Thing Number One and her comrade-in-arms, Numero Uno. “We clear?” Her words are as clear and crisp as the snow on a cold winter’s night.

Thing Number Two flushes a deep brick-red. Thing Number One shuffles her feet and stares at the cracks in the floor. Numero Uno backs away down the hall. “Come on, girls. We have better things to do.”

They stride down the hallway, their whispers like the hiss of wildfires being doused by freezing liquid.

Riley stares at the floor. Kicks her boot across a linoleum crack.

Her hand has gone limp.

“Riles?” Maya tugs on Riley’s hand. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Class.” Riley’s voice is broken. “We should get to class, Maya. My daddy will wonder where we are.”

“Your daddy can wait.” Maya slides her finger beneath Riley’s chin. Lifts Riley’s head so she’s gazing into those golden eyes. Eyes dimmer now, less full of stars. “You know what they said is wrong, don’t you? You, me, we’re not gross.”

Riley’s gaze slides out of focus. The gold dulls to a dusty amber. “Of course not. We’re Riley and Maya.”

“That’s right.” Maya’s voice is a bit too high-pitch, a bit too perky. “And we always will be. Because we’re amazing. Not gross at all.”

“Not gross at all.” Riley’s words are a faint echo, devoid of life. “We should get to class.”

With that, Riley leads Maya to Matthews’s history class. And when she gets there, she drops Maya’s hand.

* * *

The world of Other changes. Transforms into a world that makes less sense.

A world where they still hold hands. A world where they still cuddle in Riley’s room, on the family couch, in bed when Maya spends the night and the stars dust the sky.

A world where Riley begins to change.

She no longer promises Maya the stars.

She no longer touches Maya’s hand to her lips.

She no longer talks only of Maya-and-Riley.

She starts talking about boys. Boys on TV. Boys in class. Boys-on-subway-cars-who-catch-her-in-their-lap-when-Maya-dares-to-wake-her-up-by-spinning-her-away-and-showing-her-what-it-all-means.

Boys-on-subway-cars-who-become-friends-named-Huckleberry-ha-hur. Friends who gaze at Riley the way Maya gazes at Riley, as if they are searching for all the stars located within her eyes of gold. Eyes which turn golder when they gaze back at boys-on-subway-cars-whose-faces-girls-with-golden-eyes-hold-within-their-hands-and-kiss.

Maya’s heart starts to crack. Crack like shattered ice.

The world of Other is missing. This is a world of Riley-not-Riley, who is missing, too.

And so Maya tries to catch up. Because maybe if she’s like Riley, she’ll find her in the missing spaces. She starts talking about boys, too. Boys named Boing. And she pretends that she likes subway boy, too.

But it doesn’t work.

Riley is still half-missing.

And Maya isn’t quite sure how to find her again.

The world of Other is a tricky place. Sometimes, it leads Maya to a Wonderland of White. And sometimes, it leads her to a Desolate, Starless Night.

* * *

As things change, Matthews watches. He watches Riley and Maya enter his room without holding hands. He watches Riley’s crush on subway boy.

He watches Maya as Maya watches Riley, and his gaze goes dark.

With a tiny smile curled at the corner of his lips, he winks at Maya. Winks at her like a star without light. And then he scrawls three words across the board: DON’T LET GO.

He doesn’t realize, Riley already has.

* * *

Maya has to find a way to Riley. Because without Riley, the world is just a world. A world without _escape_. A world without _warm._ A world without _safe._

When Maya turns fourteen, she finds a new way to hold on: With a ring-around-her-finger, she becomes thunder-to-Riley’s-lightning, and promises herself that even in this new world, she will never let go of the girl who is her best friend.

Sometimes, not letting go is easy. Sometimes, Riley forgets her unspoken vow not to get too close. Sometimes, they sit side-by-side at Riley’s bay window, sharing secrets and not-so-secret-touches. Riley will slide her finger beneath Maya’s chin and gaze into her eyes. Or she will clasp Maya’s hands and hold on tight. Sometimes, things are exactly as they should be.

Other times, they’re not.

Other times, Riley listens to the whispers of the other kids. Whispers about the necessity of boyfriends. Whispers about how wrong it is to hold hands with other girls. Whispers about what it takes to be normal in a world Not-Other.

And when the whispers become too much, when their frequency turns them into shouts, when Riley cannot make sense of the voices outside her own mind, the ones that tell her She is Not Okay, She is Not Normal, she stops listening to the voice inside her heart.

The year they turn fourteen, she kisses Lucas on the lips and tries to hold his hand. Nothing about it is natural. Nothing about it is Riley.

Maya holds her breath.

She practices playing games. Games which show that She is Not Hurting. Games like grabbing Huckleberry’s shirt collar and chanting ha-hur into his face, grinning when he winces. Games which are not games at all, but smoke mirrors meant to hide her pain.

Games which become less fun when Huckleberry becomes a friend. When they sit together with Riley and their gang inside Topanga’s, exchanging laughter and stories. When she visits him in Texas, and realizes as he rides a bull that she really does care – even though she wishes she didn’t.

She plays a new game then. She pretends like what she feels for Lucas is what she shouldn’t be feeling for Riley. 

It doesn’t work. Her feelings for Riley grow stronger with every frozen breath.

The year they turn sixteen, Riley changes more. She holds Lucas’ hand like she means it. Holds it like she used to hold Maya’s. She rests her cheek on Lucas’ shoulder and whispers with him about secret dates.

* * *

One Friday night, Maya climbs up to Riley’s window, and discovers her spot taken. Taken by Lucas, who curls Riley into his arms and kisses her. Kisses her without coming up for breath.

Maya’s breath becomes frost, turning everything inside her cold. She slides from the ladder leading to Riley’s window and rushes into the city, away from a world that Can Never Be.

A couple days later, Lucas catches Maya’s eye as they stand on opposite sides of the hall. The expression in his cool green is unmistakable: Riley is his, and even though he’s sorry, he doesn’t intend to lose her.

It’s time for Maya to find another dream.

* * *

Matthews watches from his classroom. When Maya rushes down the hall, her head bowed to hide her traitorous tears, he hangs his head and sighs.

* * *

As the years tick by, as they become sixteen, the world of Other becomes a world of Tricks. Tricks like Matthews, with his hidden lessons on strength and forgiveness and never letting go.

Years after Maya crawls through Riley’s bedroom window, a snow-frosted girl teary and trembling, and weeks after she rushes away from Riley’s window, a girl-turned-to-ice, Matthews stands beside another snow-frosted window and swipes at his chalkboard with a piece of chalk, underscoring one word: RELINQUISH.

“Relinquish,” Matthews says, snapping the word like it’s a stick beneath his polished shoe. “Can anyone tell me why I’m underlining this word?”

Farkle scoots to the edge of his seat. “Because we’re talking about change, sir. And you want us to understand how difficult it is to change things back once you’ve given up.” Here, Farkle tosses a sharp glance at Maya.

 _Go away, Farkle._ Maya slumps in her seat. _Of all things Matthews would talk about today…_  
  
Five years her teacher – two in middle school and three in high school – and the guy’s still disrupting Maya’s blissful bubble of Other.

Matthews drops his chalk onto the overhang. “Very good, Farkle.” He claps his hands, dispersing a cloud of chalk dust. “And can anyone tell me why I’ve chosen the word ‘relinquish’ specifically?” He turns to face the class, but his brow is arched at Maya. “Maya? What does this word mean to you?”

 _Oh, c’mon._ Maya tries to slip down further into her seat, but there’s only so low a girl can go. Instead, she plants her boots, _plunk plunk_ , and stares at the intricate artwork decorating her desk. _Her_ artwork. Two girls, one dark and one light. “Surrender.” The word is a sigh. “Giving up when you know it’s best for everyone involved.”

She risks a glance from the corner of her eye, and discovers the girl who once promised her an escape. But the girl has chosen someone else to escape into now. Someone else to promise. Riley leans back toward Lucas, who traces intricate shapes with his fingertips along her shoulder blade.

For a moment, Maya flashes back to something that happened two days earlier. When she said _screw it_ to Lucas’ hallway ultimatum and confronted Riley in her room:

“I’m in love with you, Riles. And I’ve been hiding it for a really long time, but I’ve gotta say it. You need to hear it. You need to know how I feel.” The words echo from places of memory, reverberating so deep it’s as if they were sketched into Maya’s darkening heart the night she wandered the streets shoeless in a blizzard storm. Or the night two days ago she confessed her love for her best friend, as they stared at each other across the expanse of Riley’s bedroom. 

Riley’s eyes flew wide, the brown eclipsed by a kaleidoscope of golden amber. “You’re in love with me?”

“I am.” Maya traced her tongue along her lips, so dry in this moment of truth. “I’ve been in love with you for a really long time.”

There were stars in Riley’s eyes. Streaks of gold glinting across their surface. “I – I love you, too.” She breathed the words, as if they were sacred.

Maya’s heart spiraled into her throat. “Really?” She reached out for Riley’s hand, tucking it in her own.

And something changed in Riley’s eyes. The moment their fingers locked, the gold dimmed and spluttered out.

She pulled her hand away. “Maya, I can’t.” The words were brittle. Broken. She placed her hand around a locket hanging from her neck. The locket Lucas had given her for her birthday. “Lucas.” She whispered his name. A whisper as hollow as the picture-less hole inside the locket. “I promised him. I promised I’d always love him.”

“But you don’t.” Maya’s voice was a little too high-pitched, a little too desperate. “I’ve seen you two together. It’s – you’re still – Riles, it’s no better than in middle school, when you tried to hold hands.” Okay. Maybe that was a lie. There was kissing now. Cuddling. Too much cuddling. But it was never – they never… “You don’t click.” _Not the way we would. The way we_ do.

The scene in the window was a lie. It had to be.

A car horn blared from the street below, shattering the silence of their escape. The silence of Riley’s non-answer. “Stop,” she finally said, squeezing the Lucas-locket between her thumb and forefinger. “He’s my boyfriend. You have no right.”

The scent of something stale wafted up from the street, stinging Maya’s nose. So foreign in this wonderland of Other. As foreign as the words breaking from Riley’s lips. _No right. No right. No right._ But Maya had always had a right. There had never been taboo topics. They were Maya and Riley, Riley and Maya.

“And me?” She jabbed her thumb at her chest. “Riles, how do you feel about what I just told you? How do you …” She swallowed hard, forcing back a sudden rush of bile. “How do you feel about me?”

Riley stared at Maya’s cheek, as if searching for answers along the surface of Maya’s skin. “I love you,” she whispered, tracing her Lucas-locket. “Just … Not the way you love me.” 

More lies. They took the shape of truth, but Maya knew what Riley’s voice sounded like when it was telling truths. It was so buoyant, the words floated. These words sank. Sank like stars falling from the sky.

“Riles…” This name was strangled.

Riley jerked her gaze to Maya’s. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was so broken, the words tumbled together like pieces of shattered glass. “Please, let’s just stay best friends. Always and forever, like we promised that night of the blizzard. Back when we were little.”

There were two Rileys. The Riley telling these lies. And the Riley trapped somewhere behind her eyes, where the gold dimmed even as it struggled to come back to life.

 _I’m tearing her apart._ Maya tripped backward to the window. _Escape. I need to escape._

Riley stumbled toward Maya, dropping her Lucas-locket. “Ring power.” She thrust her ring into the air. “Thunder.”

The word was fragile. As fragile as the girl whose darkened hickory eyes gleamed with tears.

And Maya couldn’t escape. Not from Riley. Not from the girl who created Other and gave Maya a place of Safe. And so she collapsed. Collapsed onto the window seat, her vision blurred with tears. “Lightning,” she whispered.

Riley gasped on a sob and rushed to Maya, collapsing into her arms. Her shoulders trembling, she connected their hands so their rings glistened together in the late September sun. Golden with light. “You can’t leave me,” Riley sobbed.

“Shh.” Maya rubbed Riley’s hair with her tear-stained cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.” Somewhere from deep inside, maybe from the little girl with the frozen feet who took up residence in Maya’s damaged heart, a song began to play. Maya sang it to Riley. “Together always. Together forever. Maya and Riley. Just the way it’s meant to be.”

Riley echoed Maya’s song, until it wasn’t just one voice, but two voices joined together in tearful harmony. They sang until they fell asleep, curled in one another’s arms, two pieces of a two-piece puzzle crafted in a land of Other long, long ago.

Back in Matthews’ classroom, the clock ticks time and Maya tears her gaze from Lucas and Riley. From the way Riley leans toward Lucas’ touch, even while she stares at Maya. From the way Riley fingers Maya’s thunder-and-lightning ring, even as her Lucas-locket hangs against her chest.

Months have passed. From the sun-stained streets of September to the snow-swirled darkness of December. But Maya’s realization has remained the same: She must relinquish her love for Riley if she’s to keep her best friend from tearing in two.

“Relinquishing stuff is about surrender, Matthews.” Maya jams her hands into her pockets, hiding her Riley ring. “Because sometimes, you’ve gotta let go if you want to protect the people you love.”

Matthews’ features darken, as if stained with the darkness of December. “But not too much,” he says, and she knows he’s given up talking history. “Don’t let go forever, Maya. Sometimes, the things we relinquish have a way of coming back to us.”

It’s gotta be a trick of the fluorescent light, ‘cause Maya swears Matthews’ smile is wobbly.

She doesn’t have much time to inspect. The bell rings and she grabs her bag, rushing from the room before she loses her chance to pretend that she doesn’t hear Riley calling after her.

* * *

The ignoring Riley thing lasts about as long as Winter formal. The gang promised months ago they’d go together – rented a long white limo and vowed to go as friends, not dates, even when four of their number were dating. 

_(Once the vow was sealed, Smackle leaned her head against Farkle’s shoulder, their smiles painted with secrets. And Riley slid her arm through Lucas’, her smile secretive, too._  
  
_The truth was scrawled in words that might have been painted purple: They may be going as friends. But the unbreakable bonds between those four would be present through the night.)_  
  
On the final day of classes, Maya skips lunch and tosses a vat of purple paint at an innocent canvas. Anything to keep her mind off the stupid dance with its stupid posters that are emblazoned across the entire stupid school.

She wants to cancel. She almost does.

But there’s no way Maya can ignore the soul-deep gazes Riley casts her way throughout their last class before break. They speak of _best friends_ and _soulmates_ and all things _thunder and lightning_. They remind Maya of the little girl who opened her window on that Christmas night so long ago. The one who tugged Maya in from a snowstorm and sang to her about forever friendships.

Maya can’t ignore that little girl.

She can’t ignore Riley.

Not when her heart threatens to thunder outside her chest every time Riley glances her way.

So she slips into a sparkly blue gown with spaghetti straps. She dusts her eyelids blue and paints her lashes with blue mascara, emphasizing the blueness of her eyes. And she meets her friends on the street below her apartment in a world of twilight and stars.

In the backseat of the limo, Riley’s gaze slips from Maya’s and skims the silk of Maya’s gown, stopping at the lace hem grazing Maya’s thighs. Her brown eyes widen and skip back to Maya’s, a flash of lightning in their golden depths. Maya swears Riley dabs her bottom lip with her tongue.

But that would be the thinking of wishes, and wishes are nothing more than hopes borne by a lovesick sucker.

So Maya flops onto a seat far from Riley, mumbling _hello_ to Farkle and to Smackle, who are too busy gazing at each other to notice her. Lucas is fumbling with the music, skipping past stations of Country (Maya slaps her hands to her ears) and settling on something with pop.

Zay nudges himself into the seat beside Maya. He’s handsome as sin, his tuxedo emphasizing his muscles and broadening shoulders. “The way I see it,” he says, popping a peppermint into his mouth, “those four have each other.” He nods at Farkle and Smackle, and Lucas and Riley. “Which means it’s you and me. You ready for this, Hunter?”

Maya slides her head onto Zay’s shoulder. “Point me toward the spiked punch, and I’m all yours.”

Zay grins and slides a flask from the inner contours of his tux. “Your wish is my command, m’lady.”

Maya ignores the part about _wishes_ and uncaps the flask. The tequila burns her throat, but she takes a gulp and sighs.

Riley’s glances skip toward Maya throughout the ride. Her gaze lingers on Maya’s, before she blinks and pulls it away again. There’s something dark in Riley’s eyes. As dark as the crimson gown hugging all her curves.

The stars have dimmed in that gaze. Dimmed and faded.

Maya does her best not to look, focusing her attention instead on sipping from Zay’s flask. Soon, she’s warm with a pre-party buzz.

Somewhere in the warmth, Riley catches Maya’s eye again. Her cheeks a brilliant pink, she mouths, “You look gorgeous.”

Maya’s world becomes just a little bit warmer.

The limo driver parks in front of the double doors leading into the high school gym, and the six of them tumble outside into a landscape of snow and frosted concrete. 

Bathed in the warmth of her buzz, Maya stumbles. 

Her heels slip.

The world turns topsy turvy.

Her heart lurches into her throat.

She gasps and windmills her arms.

And Riley catches her. “Careful, Peaches.” She breathes the words into Maya’s ear, her breath hot like melted honey. “You don’t want to fall and ruin that beautiful dress.”

Maya melts into Riley’s arms. “Guess you’ll just have to keep catching me then.” _Stop it with the words_ , a voice inside her head groans, but she’s too wrapped up in Riley’s warmth to listen.

Riley’s lips move against Maya’s ear, as if she’s curling them into a smile. “I’ll always catch you.”

Lucas clears his throat. “We going inside? It’s freezing out here.”

Maya glances up from the circle of Riley’s arms to discover ha-hur studying her through eyes so winter green, they pierce Maya’s chest with a winter chill. 

Words bubble to Maya’s lips. Arguments. Pleas. Things that sound like _she was mine first_ and _can’t you see how much I love her? There’s no way you love her like this._

But Huckleberry is kind of still a friend.

And Riley’s embrace turns frigid. Her arms tense around Maya’s middle. Her breath turns cold. She pulls from their hug, and casts Lucas a look of all things warm and sorry. “Sure.” She holds out her hand to the boy with the winter eyes, and it’s as if she’s forgotten Maya exists. “Let’s go dance.”

Together, Lucas and Riley step through an archway of golden light, disappearing into a high school world of booming pop music and punch-not-yet-spiked.

Farkle watches Maya. Snowflakes dot his hair, his tux. The white silver turns his gaze a molten gold. It’s too knowing. Too scorching.

Too hot, Maya pushes past her friends and disappears into the shadows of the dance, searching for someplace safe, someplace hers, someplace that does not exist. The flask is unsteady in her fist. She uncaps it and chugs, choking on the burning liquid. The music pounds against her eardrums, assaulting them with songs about jingle bells and rocks, and she fades away into the darkness.

Lucas and Riley are everywhere. Dancing to every song. Her arms around his shoulders. His fingers touching every visible inch of satin skin. As if he owns her. As if somehow, she is his. His in a way she has never been Maya’s.

His in a way she has never been anyone’s.

His as if ... _Oh, god._

The alcohol floods Maya’s throat, making her gag. _No._ She shakes her head. Hard. As if she can empty it of these thoughts. _No. No. No._

The music crashes and crescendos, and Maya claps her hand to her mouth. Her heels slip against the linoleum, but she rushes through the dance, past her friends, who call out for her to stop, past Lucas, too wrapped up in Riley, past Riley, too focused on Lucas. The alcohol threatens to spill itself from her throat, and so she rushes into the hallway and slams into the bathroom.

Two girls stand at the mirror, painting their lips with color. They gape at Maya in the glass, their lipsticks halfway to their lips.

“Out,” Maya gasps. And her eyes must look wild or her voice must sound feral because the girls drop their lipsticks back into satin handbags and clip-clop from the room, swishing the door closed behind them.

Maya leans her hands against the sink, bowing her head so she doesn’t have to gaze at the beast woman in the mirror. Her breath breaks from her mouth in a series of strangled gasps. It is the death rattle of a girl whose world has just been shattered.

Lucas. Touching Riley. As if he owns her. As if…

The door swings open, and footsteps echo through the room.

Maya swallows a curse and swivels toward the sound. “Get the hell –”

Riley’s eyes fly wide. She holds up a hand, as if even from the doorway, she has the magical power to keep Maya steady, to keep her from crumbling. “Peaches?” Their old childhood nickname, so hollow now on Riley’s lips. “What…?”

A bomb has ticked down time inside Maya’s heart from the moment she crawled barefoot outside her bedroom window and into the snow. Her heart held it prisoner, strengthened by her bond with Riley. But that bond is shattered now. Shattered like Maya’s world. Her heart cracks open, and the bomb explodes in a torrent of misshaped words. “You.” She jabs her finger at Riley. Stumbles toward her best friend, who keeps her hand raised as if she can stop the bomb. “And Lucas. You’re – together. Together. Sleeping.” Maya scrunches her hands together into a trembling ball. “Having…having…” The words taste like radioactive poison. “Sex.” There. That word. The trigger. She spits it from her lips, and her vision explodes into a blur of tears. “Riley, tell me you’re not having sex with Lucas!”

The life seeps from Riley’s face, bleeding away the pink of her cheeks. “How – Maya, no.” She shakes her head. “I mean, not yet. Tonight, we – well, we were talking about … at Farkle’s after party –” 

“Don’t.” The word is a grenade, launched into the empty space between best friends. “Don’t you dare.” 

Maya stalks into that space, determined to erase it. She is detonated with the charge of electricity that can only come from standing this close to Riley. From gazing at the crimson flash of Riley’s eyes. From watching the spark of pink flare back into Riley’s face. From giving into the static charge that flares when Riley dabs her lips with her tongue.

She slips her arm around Riley’s waist. And tugs her best friend closer. Closer until there is no space. Closer until she loses herself in the flash of Riley’s eyes. And then, when the flash becomes a gleam and Riley sighs against Maya’s lips, Maya erases the space between them and kisses her best friend.

Riley stiffens.

And then melts. Melts like snow-become-heated-liquid, warm and gentle against all of Maya’s curves. Melts like the charge between them has ignited into sparks, sparks that feel like tiny flames come to life in all the places Riley’s fingertips wander. Against Maya’s cheek. And at the nape of Maya’s neck. And along Maya’s hand, where Riley connects each of their fingers.

Hand-in-hand, Maya stops the kiss. “Tell me,” she whispers against Riley’s lips, “that kissing him feels anything like that, and I’ll stop. I don’t want to tear you in two, Riles, but I don’t want to lose you, either.”

Something about Maya’s words break the spell. Riley, once melted, goes frigid. She untangles her hand from Maya’s and trips backward, falling against the door. “Lucas,” she gasps through lips kiss-swollen. “Oh, god.” Her eyes frost over with tears. “Maya, I – I can’t.”

She turns toward the door, her hand trembling against the handle.

“Riles?” The name sticks like ice against Maya’s throat.

Riley gasps. And then sobs. “I promised him, Maya. It’s – it’s the way it’s supposed to be. Me and Lucas.” The words are broken up between tears. “Don’t make me choose.”

Something inside Maya threatens to break. Break the way Riley is broken, her entire body trembling. She wants to yell. She wants to demand _why_. Why is it the way it’s supposed to be? Because Lucas-and-Riley is normal? Because Maya is her cataclysm?

But Riley is trembling. Her sobs fill the space. And Maya’s words will not come.

 _I did this._ Maya curves her fingers into fists. _I broke her._  
  
And it’s horrible, because all Maya wants is to kiss Riley again. And it’s heartbreaking, because Maya knows – she knows Riley felt it, too.

But it’s inevitable.

Riley has made her choice.

So Maya reaches out for Riley, for the lightning to her thunder, and touches her shoulder. “Go to him.” The words are barely audible, but they fill the room. “Tell him I’m sorry.” _Because before all this happened, we were all friends. Friends in a way we never will be again._  
  
She doesn’t wait for Riley to respond. She pushes past the girl-once-her-safe-space, once-her-best-friend, and rushes back into the snow-frosted night, wearing nothing but a thin silk gown and high heels.

* * *

Riley's kiss tasted like fresh snow and honey.

The taste clings to Maya’s lips and refuses to let go.

* * *

Riley calls every day during break. She calls in the morning. In the afternoon. At night, after Maya’s brushed her teeth and is staring outside her window at the dim-lit New York stars, wondering what would happen if she just gave in and answered Riley’s calls.

She never gives in.

And the calls end in early January, when the world is frozen and all life stops.

* * *

By now, Riley must be sleeping with Lucas.

She is not Maya’s. She never has been.

* * *

When all life dies beneath the fallen snow, Maya begins to crave creativity.

She begins to find a new escape.

* * *

Maya memorizes the glint of stars against the New York City skyline. The world is one of darkness and light, and each of the stars has a different color.

Someone once gave all the stars a name.

Maya chooses to give them new life.

She picks the lock and sneaks into the high school art room after hours. Paints the stars upon canvas after canvas. Transforms the room from linoleum-and-plaster into an exploratorium of night.

One day, Matthews sticks his head into the room and watches Maya paint.

Maya pretends not to see him.

She pretends not to hear him, too, when he says, “Remember, Maya. Remember how not to let go.”

She pretends she cannot hear his footsteps fading down the hall. That she does not know what his words mean. That she does not flash back on thunder-and-lightning and all the moments she spent with a girl-once-her-safe-place who loved to name the stars.

That night, she pencils names next to every star in her creation.

The next night and every night thereafter, she returns to the art room and does the same. So many stars. So many names.

Her art teacher, Mrs. Hadley, hangs Maya’s paintings along the wall. And after the night Matthews peeks inside the room, Hadley starts forgetting to lock the door whenever she leaves.

A few days later, Maya discovers a note in her locker. The words are hasty, scrawled in hurried pen. _JUST IN CASE HADLEY FORGETS TO REMEMBER TO FORGET. – MR. M._ Attached to the note is a key. A key that opens the room with the stars. 

And so Maya has found a new world. A world of Art.

* * *

When Maya was six, she listened to her parents fight and promised herself that one day, she’d find a safe place.

For ten years, Maya thought that safe place was a girl.

Turns out, she only confused it with the girl because the girl was a bright light in a world gone dark.

The safe place was always inside. Inside Maya’s own heart.

* * *

Riley watches Maya in the halls. Watches her with magical eyes that can see inside the spaces of Maya’s soul. Her smiles are sad, turned down at the corners and a little unsteady.

Maya changed her lunch hour and transferred from Matthews’ class the day after winter break, so they have no chance to talk.

Riley never says anything. But she wears a ring on her finger that matches the one Maya wears around her neck, hidden beneath the collar of her shirts. And every-once-in-a-while, Riley lifts the ring as she passes a window or stands inside a doorway. 

The sun glints off the metal, creating a flash of lightning.

Maya passes by and whispers, “Thunder.”

They catch each other’s eyes, and in the flash of understanding, they are for a moment Riley-and-Maya, thunder-and-lightning. Nothing has changed.

And then the bell rings or the sun disappears behind the clouds, and the moment ends, and they go back to being strangers-once-best-friends.

Everything is different.

Riley is gone.

* * *

Maya watches Riley in the halls. Stands in the shadows of locker banks, watching Riley pass while holding Lucas’ hand.

It’s the only time Riley’s smiles turn up at the corners. When the world is Riley and Lucas.

In January, Riley leans her head against Lucas’ shoulder and grins as he caresses her wrist with his fingertips.

* * *

Zay sneaks inside the art room at lunch time and watches Maya paint. He doesn’t say much.

One day, he clears his throat. “Don’t give up. I don’t think you’re gonna have to relinquish everything. Or anything, really.”

Maya’s paintbrush stills in the act of creating a star. She turns to ask him what he means, but he’s already gone.

* * *

In February, Riley thumps her fingers against Lucas’ hand and talks about Pluto as he gazes off into the distance, his fingers motionless.

* * *

Farkle slips into the art room one day after school. “You know what my favorite Matthews’ lessons is? One of them, anyway?”

“Nope.” Maya dabs a new star onto her canvas. “But I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me.”

“It’s the lesson about the Trojan horse.” Farkle’s voice is as quiet as it is deep. “Because it reminds me that what’s going on inside isn’t always the same as what’s going on outside.”

Maya sighs and drops her brush. “What are you talking about, Farkle?”

Farkle touches a hand to Maya’s shoulder. “Riley’s always been different, Maya. She’s weird, but she doesn’t want to be.”

“And?”

“And you’ve always helped her find herself, even when she’s trapped inside her own mind. Just…” He squeezes her shoulder. “Don’t give up on her, okay?”

Maya picks up her brush. Crafts another star. “If you think I’m ever giving up on Riley, then you really don’t know me at all.”

“Good,” he says, and drops his hand. “Because my after party? Never happened.”

It takes Maya a moment to realize what he means. And then her heart turns into starlight. 

If Farkle’s after party never happened, then Riley never slept with Lucas. 

The next canvas is three times as bright. 

* * *

It isn’t that she’s given up on Riley.

It’s that she doesn’t know how to find Riley.

Riley’s been fading for years, and Maya hasn’t found the secret to unlocking the source of light that has always radiated from her.

* * *

In March, Riley’s light goes out. Her smile folds down at the corners as Lucas prattles on about a movie he saw without her and stops to wave at a group-of-friends-outside-their-circle.

Something fades from Riley’s eyes. A spark begins to die.

The way she holds Lucas’s hand resembles the way she held his hand in middle school. By April, they’ve stopped holding hands altogether.

* * *

Maya longs to talk to Riley, to hug her, to be her best friend. But she’s forgotten how.

* * *

She refuses to give up, though.

She stands on the street outside Riley’s bedroom window, gazing up at that golden light. It’s dimmer than before. Duller. Almost as if the spark has faded just the way the stars have dimmed in Riley’s eyes.

Maya’s face stings from the cold, her lips frozen from the wind. She tries to make her feet move. Move closer to that dim, dull light. But they’re stuck-like-ice against the cement.

Cars whizz past, honking horns. Drivers yell at other drivers to _hurry the hell up_ … _go back to driving school_ … _get your head out of your…_  
  
The world outside Riley’s window is nothing like the world of Other.

The world of Other is lost. Misplaced in some far-off snowstorm, and Maya has forgotten the secret to unlocking the door.

Maya stands on the street so long, the golden light in Riley’s room goes black.

A silhouette shuffles away from Riley’s windows, leaving them desolate and empty.

Maya has to find the light. She has to find the life and put it back into those windows.

Her feet finally move. They slush through puddles of ice-once-snow, carrying her ever closer to the dark.

She climbs the metal ladder, frozen in this world Not-Other, her fingers stiff against the cold. And she stares inside the room-now-black.

Riley is curled up in a ball within her bed, her back turned from Maya. Her shoulders tremble. Tremble and shake.

 _Oh, Riles. I miss you so much._ Maya lifts her hand to the glass. Curls her fingers against the cold surface.

Riley looks so much like a child, like the little girl who pulled Maya in from the blizzard. But this time, Maya isn’t the one in danger of freezing. The world-Not-Other is cold, but not as cold as the starless chill in Riley’s eyes.

 _Turn around, Hunter._ A voice in Maya’s head chides. _Run. Get away from here. You know she’ll only hurt you._

“Shut up,” Maya tells it. And her voice may be a whisper, but it’s a whisper full of heat. “Riley doesn’t hurt me. I’m the one who hurt her.” _Me and all of my expectations._

And that’s all it’s ever been, really. Expectations. Expectations that Riley would always be hers. Expectations that Riley would always be safe. _The thing is,_ Maya reasons, unlatching the window, _expectations become demands. And demands are sword-point-sharp. So sharp, they have a way of puncturing the stars._  
  
Maya’s found a way to paint the stars into a room of linoleum-and-plaster.

Now she’s going to find a way to paint them back into Riley’s eyes.

She steps inside Riley’s room, closing the window behind her. She steps onto the window seat – _their_ window seat, where everything once made sense. _Where it will make sense again._ Her skin prickles from the sudden rush of warmth. Prickles and then glows. 

Inside Riley’s room, the world is right. So right, she swears that even in the dark, the room is golden, its light dancing across her warming skin.

Her stomach twists and knots, but she ignores it the way she ignored the voice. She tiptoes to Riley’s bed, reaching out for the-girl-who-once-made-the stars-come-to-life.

Her fingers tremble as her hand hovers over Riley’s back. Maya breathes in deep, and touches her trembling fingers to Riley’s hair. It’s smooth as silk.

Riley sucks in a breath of air. “What…?” She tumbles from her side onto her back, her features frozen in open-mouthed shock. But the moment her gaze meets Maya’s, her features melt. The oval of her mouth curls itself into a timid smile. “Peaches?” She breathes the nickname like it’s a prayer.

“Shh.” Maya places a finger to her lips. Her heart rockets into her throat. Rockets so fast, she can’t make sense of the words spilling from her lips. “It’s just a dream, Riles. If we talk, we might both wake up.”

Because if it’s a dream, she doesn’t have to explain herself. If it’s a dream, they can pretend like nothing has changed.

Their gazes collide. A gleam flashes in Riley’s eyes, as if there’s a light inside waking up the missing stars. “Okay. But if this is a dream,” she whispers, rubbing finger-circles along Maya’s hand, “then I want three wishes.”

 _Of course._ Maya flips her hand, allowing Riley’s wild-fire touches to slide along her palm. _Because stars always come with wishes._ She tries not to shiver. “Which are?”

“First wish.” Riley slides her pointer finger into the gap between Maya’s pointer and middle. “I want my best friend back.”

A fiery lump rises into Maya’s throat. “Done. Next wish?”

“Second wish.” Riley slides her middle finger into the gap between Maya’s middle and ring. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”

Maya swallows the lump, tasting starlight. “Done.” This word is more a croak. “Final wish?”

“My final wish,” Riley says, sliding her ring finger into the gap between Maya’s ring and pinkie, then resting her thumb along the ridge of Maya’s hand, “is for you to spend the night. Because if this is really a dream, I want you to be here when I wake up.”

Hand-in-hand with Riley, Maya has to force herself not to tremble, has to force herself not to cry. This girl gazing back at her is the most important thing in her entire world. “Done.” This word has no sound at all. Maya’s lips form the word, and it is as real as the electricity magicked between herself and Riley.

She climbs into the sheets beside Riley, and Riley scoots back into her arms, resting her head on Maya’s chest. “Peaches?”

“Hmm?”

“If this is really a dream,” Riley says, fanning her fingers over Maya’s heartbeat, “then why does it feel so real?”

Maya rests her hand atop Riley’s. “Because,” she says, threading their fingers anew, “things with us have always been real.”

Together, they fall into a sleep almost dreamless, their only dream the warmth wrapped up in each of their arms.

* * *

After that night, things go back to normal. Or as normal as they ever were, with Maya pretending away her feelings and Riley hiding the stars from her eyes. Their hands sometimes touch. Their lips sometimes come close, hovering in moments they share secrets or connect the way Thunder and Lightning do.

Maya spends the night at Riley’s house, and they cuddle between the sheets, whispering well into the night about how Lucas is dating Missy _(Riley wishes them well)_ or how Farkle has accepted an early offer to MIT or how Cyborg X in their favorite TV show has developed feelings for Cyborg Z.

Maya stays awake as Riley drifts off to sleep. And when it is just Maya in this world-of-Other, she slips her hand into Riley’s and traces her gaze along Riley’s lips, remembering how they tasted of honey and snow. She longs to taste them again, to see if the taste has changed. But she bites down on her bottom lip. And she tells herself that she promised Riley things would go back to the way they were. 

She forces herself to fall asleep.

Riley switches her lunch hour, and then Farkle and Smackle switch their lunch hour, too, so that they all four have lunch together. They sit with Maya at a table in the back, building monuments of mashed potatoes, then eating them and starting again.

One day, Zay joins them for lunch, too. And the next, Lucas is there. His gaze is no longer winter chill, but warm as the spring breeze wafting through New York.

“Look,” he says, whipping his fork through the mashed potato, bringing it to his lips, “we’ve all been through a lot together. And even though Riley and I broke up, I don’t want things to end between us.” He scoops the mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Neither do I,” Riley says, tossing Lucas a warm smile.

A smile Lucas returns.

Maya shifts in her chair, her fingers dangerously close to Riley’s. “Even me?” She speaks the words to her plate.

Lucas gazes at Maya until Maya gazes back, and in that moment, she finds her old friend Huckleberry ha-hur. “Yes. Even you.” He drops his fork onto his tray and sticks out his hand. “Friends, Maya?”

“Well, that depends.” Maya slaps her hand onto Lucas’s.

“On?”

“Maya,” Riley warns in a sing-song voice.

But Maya’s smirk is relentless. It paints itself onto the corner of her lips. “See, if we’re gonna be friends, I gotta do this.” She leans over the table, leans real close to Lucas’ face, and, with her smirk a wild thing possessed, she shouts, “HA-HUR!”

Lucas winces. “Better now?” A dimple flashes in his cheek.

“Yup, Huckleberry.” Maya scoops up a bit of mashed potatoes onto her own fork. “Everything’s just … peachy.”

She shoves the mashed potatoes into her mouth. And takes Riley’s hand.

* * *

Things go back to normal. Or as normal as they can be when Maya has to force herself not to look at Riley’s lips or dream of tasting them again. And when she has to pretend that Riley’s gaze is still missing the stars, except for the dim flashes of light that appear whenever she lets down her guard and gazes at Maya. 

* * *

Once upon a time, Maya stared at a sky of shooting stars, while holding her best friend’s hand.

Once upon a time, Riley studied Maya’s lips and proclaimed the world a living place.

Once upon a time, they almost kissed. Once upon a time, they did kiss. Once upon a time.

* * *

Normal sucks.

She can’t take it. She can’t take it. She can’t take it anymore.

She lays nose-to-nose with Riley, cuddled within their sheets, studying the shape of her best friend’s lips in the lamplight spilling from Riley’s bedside table. Riley’s breath is sweet, and Maya wants – no, _needs_ – to know if her lips still taste the same.

She edges closer. Close enough for Riley’s breath to splash her cheek. _No._ Her inner voice shouts. _Stop. You’ll ruin everything._

She tries to push the voice away, tries to ignore it. But it’s doing the mamba in her brain. So instead, she closes her eyes and says, “Riles?”

“Yes, Peaches?” Riley’s words are soft with a bit of edge, as if formed on the abyss of hope and fear.

Maya scrunches the sheets in her hand. Releases them. Scrunches them again. “Do you…?” _Say it. Say it. SayitSayitSayit._ “Do you want to go to sleep?” _Not that. Anything but that!_  
  
Sleep is not talking. Sleep is not figuring things out. Sleep is standing still.

But the words will not come. They’re frozen against Maya’s lips.

Riley sighs. “Yeah. Sure.”

A moment later, she shuffles in the sheets. There’s a click, and the room goes dark.

When Maya opens her eyes, she discovers Riley’s eyes closed. Soon, Riley’s breath is even and deep.

So. Sleep.

* * *

A nervous energy builds itself up in Maya’s heart. The only way out is creativity. And so she transforms the stars upon her canvas. She makes them fly. She makes them shoot across the painted sky. And she gives them all new names. The same name. The letter R.

* * *

By the end of junior year, Maya’s finished most of her prerequisites for graduation. So Matthews convinces the school to let her take extra art classes. Soon, Maya’s artwork spills out of the art room and into the school hallways, decorating them with her shooting stars named R.

Together with Maya, Farkle stands beneath the skies and smiles. “Knew you’d find a way to work through stuff,” he says, reaching out to squeeze Maya’s hand.

Smackle frowns at the shooting stars. “R? Why’d you call them R? We all know you really want to call them –”

“Shh, honey.” Farkle clamps his hand around Smackle’s.

Smackle wrinkles her forehead. “Is this one of those things I’m not supposed to talk about?”

“That’s right.” 

Farkle’s voice is so soft, his words so warm, the look he shares with Smackle so electrified, Maya flashes back to a snowy night inside a bathroom when her best friend held her hand and looked into her eyes with a gaze so charged, it was brighter than any night sky.

She stumbles back from Farkle and Smackle. “I, uh,” she mumbles, the words tumbling together, “I have to …”

She doesn’t wait. She dashes away, leaving Farkle calling after her.

* * *

Standing in a sea of students rushing to their next class, Riley stops and gazes at the shooting stars.

Something inside Riley’s eyes Maya forgot existed flickers back to life.

Something inside Maya’s heart Maya forgot to believe in flickers back to life, too.

* * *

After school, Maya slips inside the art room to discover a penned note perched upon her easel: MEET ME TONIGHT. OUR ROOM. WHEN THE STARS SHOOT ACROSS THE SKY. – R

* * *

The world is on fire.

The star is alight with stars so bright, they shimmer like wild fire. They flicker and wink at Maya from the heavens, casting silver glow upon the New York streets. Guiding her deeper into a world made new.

She finds herself stepping through her old village. The world she lived in when she was younger. The world where her parents fought and she escaped into a blizzard one Christmas night. It’s no longer freezing here. The people are no longer scary.

A woman watches Maya from the shadows of a doorway. Her smile is crooked and broken, but there’s something alive within her eyes that sends warmth into Maya’s heart.

“How ‘bout it, dearie?” She cocks her head at Maya. “Where you goin’ now?”

The warmth in Maya’s heart casts a smile across her face. “I’m going home,” she says, reaching into her purse and pulling out a fistful of change. “But first, I wanted to give you this.” She sprinkles the money into the woman’s outstretched hand.

The woman stares at the coins. “And what’s this for?”

“You helped me once when I was a little girl.” Maya’s voice is a soft as freshly fallen snow. “You tried to make me feel safe. This is just a ‘thank you.’”

The woman folds her fingers, the money safe in her fist. “And did you then? Find a place that’s safe?”

“Yeah.” Maya’s smile widens. “I did. Turns out, it’s always been right here.” She lifts her hand to her heart, cupping it beneath her palm.

“Aye.” The woman nods. “That’s a good girl, then.”

The woman steps back into the shadows, leaving Maya to finish her walk through the world Once Hers.

It’s interesting, really. This world isn’t so scary. And it isn’t so broken. In fact, Maya notices as she turns a corner, there are little shoots of green rising from the Earth in various sidewalk gardens, promising new life this spring.

* * *

Once done visiting worlds past, Maya makes good on her promise to the woman. She goes home. She goes to Riley’s.

More stars sprinkle across the sky, flashing dots of silver. And when Maya reaches the ladder to Riley’s room, a silver starlet shoots across the sky, its flight signaling a new beginning.

Maya climbs the ladder and pops open Riley’s window. And stops. And stares.

Riley sits crimson-cheeked in a room-made-white. A fluffy white blanket upon the bed. White fluff along the window seat. Assorted white towels across the floor. And atop the towels, two sleighs.

“Welcome to Winter Wonderland, Maya.” Riley sits in one sleigh and pats the other. “Sit with me?”

“Of course.” Maya slides through the window and steps across the towels. Winter is soft beneath her feet. Her breath is frost within her throat. But a warm frost. Almost like she’s swallowed melting snow. She slides down into the sleigh and looks to Riley for answers. “What’s going on, Riles?”

Riley fidgets in her sleigh, her face half-hidden in a room half-dark. “I’ve been keeping secrets.”

Maya reaches out. Takes Riley’s hand. “Secrets?” 

Riley nods. “Yes. I never told you why I pulled away from you. All those times, when I could have been with you. When I was…”

 _With Lucas._ She doesn’t need to speak the words. They exist between them both, a shattered truth. 

Maya flips Riley’s hand. Runs her fingertips along the fortune lines etched across Riley’s palm. “Why were you keeping secrets?” 

Riley shivers. “I was scared,” she gasps. “Terrified I would never be normal. You were always so brave. You’ve never cared what other people thought. But I…”

“You were Riley.” Maya’s fingertips travel to Riley’s face, where she traces the soft ridge of her cheek. “Honey, don’t you know just how amazing you are? How amazing you’ve always been?”

A liquid gleam casts itself across Riley’s eyes, turning their brown a shimmering gold. “You’ve always believed in me, haven’t you?”

“Since day one. I always will.”

Riley’s eyes fall shut. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Then tell me.” These words stick, breathed up from a world of Hope Maya never dared to believe might be made real.

She notices then. Notices the walls. The ceiling. 

The room isn’t half-dark.

It’s filled with light.

Riley hasn’t just turned her bedroom into a Wonderland of White. She’s transformed it into a Starry Night. Electric stars shoot across her room, so close Maya can touch them.

Riley opens her eyes, and the stars are reflected there, too, in fiery streaks of gold. “I – I love you. I’m _in_ love with you. It’s always been you, Maya.”

The world is on fire.

Riley loves her, too.

Stars fly across the sky. And Maya swears she feels their heat, flying across her skin.

The frost dissolves from her throat, replaced by the heat of her thundering heart.

She slides her hand to the back of Riley’s head. And pulls her best friend closer. So close, she loses herself in the fiery lightning of Riley’s eyes. “I love you, too,” she whispers. And then she loses herself in the electric charge of Riley’s kiss.

Together, they tumble backward off their sleighs, onto the fluffy white towels, their kiss unbroken. Maya’s skin is starlight, so warm. Everything is electrified.

Riley’s kiss tastes like honey and fresh snow.

Riley’s touch is like wild fire.

Riley loves her back.

They stop their kiss, but they do not break apart. Maya leans her forehead against Riley’s. And Riley tangles her fingers through the spaces of Maya’s hand.

“Just the way it should be.” Maya squeezes Riley’s hand. “Don’t ever let go.”

“I never will again,” Riley whispers, nuzzling Maya’s nose. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Maya brushes Riley’s lips with another kiss. “I’ve always been right here.”

Somewhere in the distance, the clattering sounds of Riley’s family getting ready for dinner echo through the apartment.

But in here, it is just Riley. It is just Maya. It is just Riley-and-Maya.

A song dances from the echoes of memory, as if child Maya is singing somewhere inside. Maya chooses to join her. “Together always. Together forever. Maya and Riley. Just the way it’s meant to be.”

Riley laughs, the laughter of the heavens, and then she joins the song. Together, they sing about forever. They sing about always. And then, when the song is done, they kiss in their world of Other, where magic is real and everything is right.

* * *

The next day, Matthews scrawls something new across the board: HOLD ON TIGHT.

Maya takes Riley’s hand across the aisle of seats. And winks.


End file.
